Chapter Thirty-Two #2
I closed the door most of the way, leaving only the slightest crack—and beckoned Galen closer so we could both hear what they said. He may have only begrudgingly liked me, but he actively disliked her. And his prince was in the room with her.
“Niko,” Catalaya said. “She is a menace. She should be cast out of the stronghold!”
“She saved my life, and the lives of my soldiers. Don’t blame Fox for the work of an evildoer.”
“Why not? How do you know she wasn’t working with him the entire time? Planning out a strategy to give your throne to an Aetheric power? Do you know what they say about her? That she’s an Aetheric savior. Do you know how dangerous that is to you?”
“She isn’t dangerous to me. And if anyone would try to hurt her, or use her to get to me, they’d earn my everlasting hatred.”
“You can’t see beyond your dick.”
“Trust me, Caty, my dick isn’t the problem here.”
She made a scream of frustration, then marched toward the door.
Galen and I sprang away from it. I decided it would be best if I made my way back toward my room, but it didn’t take long to hear her quick footsteps behind me.
And then her hand was on my shoulder, and she whipped me around to face her.
She looked pale and furious. “I’ll give you one last warning. Stay away from the prince.”
“If you want to discuss how the prince spends his time, take it up with him. Why would you want to be with a man who doesn’t want you?”
“Because he’s my best damned option!” The words were hard and a little bit afraid. “He’s a good man. He won’t hurt me, or use me, or steal my dowry. He won’t start a pointless war, or prevent me from seeing my family. He is my only hope for a future in which I’m happy and safe.”
I didn’t want to pity her—she had everything I’d wanted for most of my life—but I understood that her options were limited, too.
“You don’t have to be royal,” I said. “You’re young and healthy and I’m sure you could figure out a way to get coin of your own. You could learn a skill. Start a trade. Meet someone who wants you for who you are.”
She moved closer. “I love him, and he deserves better than a servant. He deserves someone with power, who can help him achieve what he’s destined to achieve.”
“You want him to be the same as every other Lys’Careth in the country. Every Lys’Careth that has ever been.”
“And you don’t want that?” Skepticism dripped from the words like wax from a candle.
“No. He can be different. He can be more.”
“You want him to make enemies. You want him to die.”
“I want him to live for himself.”
“You don’t get it—what he wants doesn’t matter.” Her voice was hard, sharp. Like a tutor exhausted with a stubborn pupil. “He’s a prince and he has obligations to this country, and to me. And rest assured, Fox, I intend to see that he discharges them.”
He cared about me, and I knew her words wouldn’t sway him. But there were weapons other than words. She was an aristocrat, and that made her dangerous.
Never underestimate your opponent, my father had said. It was the last lesson he’d given me.
I paced inside my room until I’d burned off some anger, then went back to the prince’s room.
He was gone, but I found a tray with pastries and sweetened barley water, undoubtedly left by Orda.
And beside it, a small, wooden puzzle box.
It was like the one Gryffin had given the prince during his visit, but a bit larger.
I looked over at the table, where the first box sat, just where Nik had put it. Had Gryffin sent another?
I walked to the hallway and held up the puzzle box to the guards. “Did someone deliver this to the prince today?”
The guards looked at it. “The prince’s uncle brought it, my lady. He’s visiting the prince.”
“Uncle Gryffin?”
The guard nodded. “They were in His Highness’s rooms, then went for a walk.”
“I don’t suppose you know where?”
“No, my lady.”
“Thank you.” I went back in, put the box back on the table, and ensured that the wind hadn’t completely mussed my hair. I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity for more travel stories.
And then I paused, and looked back at it.
There was a dark spot on the wood. Curious, I walked over and picked it up again. Not a spot, but a small image neatly etched into the wood: a square with a crescent moon inside it. I checked the first box and found the same.
“Must be a signature,” I murmured. But that splinter of worry poked at me again. Hadn’t I seen that mark before? Where?
I closed my eyes, thought back. One of the books in the library? Maybe other artwork in the palace?
And then my belly went cold. I needed the clues we’d already found.
I pulled open drawers, sifted through notes and debits and reports he hadn’t finished reading, then a bureau with books and reports and complaints about the stronghold’s roads and springtime flooding…
and found a linen envelope. Inside were the scrap of paper we’d found in Tommen’s forge and the crescent of wax we’d found on the assassin who’d killed him.
In the bottom corner of the paper where the page was torn was a partial symbol: a small square with a crescent moon inside it.
I put the wax seal beside it. The same image had been stamped there.
The man who’d made the box and the man who’d ordered the weapon—or maybe even designed it—were the same.
And the practitioner’s henchman, the man who’d died in the woods of the arrow shot, had managed to hide away a bit of that man’s wax seal.
For protection? Because he knew the man’s true identity?
Now I did, too.
I ran to the door. “I think the prince is in danger. Go to the armory. Tell Red. Have him send men to search the palace and the grounds. Armed men.”
“Who are we looking for?”
“The prince’s uncle. He’s going to try to kill the prince.”
Maybe I was wrong. Overly worrying because things were too settled, and I was too happy, and I was convinced the turning of the day would bring pain and fear.
But maybe I wasn’t.
I checked the throne room. Empty. Ballroom. Empty. Game room. Tried the first door. Locked. Tried the second door. Locked. I put an ear to the door, could hear nothing. Kneeled down, looked through the keyhole. Could see nothing. So maybe the room was just locked because it wasn’t in use.
But maybe it wasn’t.
I pulled away one of the thin metal pins Orda used in my hair, closed my eyes, and inserted it into the lock. I saw with my hands, felt one tumbler slip, and then another. And with a snick, the lock opened.
I swallowed my fear until the ember began to warm and it was too great to ignore. There was Aether in the room.
Silently, I turned the handle and slipped the door open.
Galen was on the floor, arms and legs spread.
No blood, and his chest rose and fell. Knocked out, apparently.
Nik was on his knees on the floor, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead.
What drew my attention (gratefully) from the blood was the green sword Gryffin had pointed at Nik’s throat—and its luminously green Aetheric glow.
I guessed Tommen had finished his work after all.
Inside my chest, the ember’s flame grew, my body warming from nearness to the Aetheric fire.
Gryffin didn’t bother glancing back. “Come inside, close the door, lock it. Do anything else, and he dies.” There was nothing absent-minded about his tone now. Just hard, cold determination.
I slipped the pin into my sleeve and did as requested. And put on my best bluff. “Trying the direct route since the Aetheric practitioner didn’t do the job for you?”
“He was mostly useless. Distracted by magic. A little crazed by it, I think.” He looked over as I approached. “Figured it out, did you?”
“A little too late.”
“How?”
“Puzzle box. The mark on the box was the same as the mark on the plans Tommen made for your weapon.”
Nik’s eyes widened.
“Clever.”
I ignored the compliment. “Why are you doing this? He’s your nephew. Your blood.”
“He’s not my blood. He is my brother’s child, and that’s how the rot and corruption is carried—in the blood. And as long as they live, nothing in his country will change.”
“ ‘Death to the emperor’s spawn,’ ” I said. “That’s what the assassins called out when they attacked the prince at the gate.”
“It’s a personal credo.”
“So why haven’t you killed him yet?”
“There’s something I need yet.”
“Funds? Soldiers? Silver carriages?”
“I told him the treasury was empty,” Nik said. “He didn’t believe me.”
“Dust and dead beetles,” I agreed. “It’s very disappointing.”
“I’ll make some coin with that map,” Gryffin said, as if justifying his decision to invade the palace and assault the prince, “and out the window I go.”
“Just like you came in at the ball.”
“I’m owed all this and more.”
“Because you’re a Lys’Careth?”
“Because I’m smarter than all of them. But my brother is stronger, cheated his way into power, and has refused to die. I did my part. I worked in the ministry, bided my time, helped him do what was necessary to keep Carethia safe.”
My heart beat faster, and my voice sounded so far away. “You were the Aetheric curate.”
His smile was wide and pleased. “I knew you were a smart girl. Smarter than Revenn, certainly.”
“Revenn?”
“The one you call the practitioner. He wasn’t born with that level of skill, of course. He was left at an Aetheric shrine, raised by the Enshrined Monks. Got his hands on some texts and learned about unification.”
“You planned for this weapon when you were the curate. We found the reports,” I added at the surprise in his eyes.
“When this all started. But then the god up and disappeared.”
“I’m told he’s under attack.”
Gryffin looked at me. “You don’t say? How curious.”
He didn’t look at all curious. He looked smug. “What does an Aetheric weapon do?” I wondered. “It carries Aether, but it’s still a blade. Doesn’t need Aether to cut.”
“Not humans,” he said. “Anima.”
The ember pulsed, as if the fear of a million Anima had surged through it.
“Humans and Anima,” I said quietly.
“That’s the breakthrough.” Gryffin smiled proudly. “A Terran weapon that will hold an Aetheric charge, useful against beings from both realms.”
“Anima aren’t attacking us,” I said, and saying it aloud made me understand. “You don’t want to defend Terra. You want to attack the Aetheric?”
“I want to use the weapons available to us. That includes Anima. If our weapons are strong enough, there will be no need for fighting.”
“You think the Aetheric god is going to let you use his Anima?”
“What Aetheric god? He’s conveniently indisposed.” There was nothing pleasant about the gleam in his eyes.
Because I’d been distracting him, Gryffin had momentarily forgotten about his nephew.
At the sound of movement, Gryffin glanced back just in time to see Nik push the sword away and lunge forward.
He grabbed his uncle’s legs, sending them both to the floor.
His uncle, clearly still strong from years of travel, gave Nik a good grapple, but he dropped the Aetheric sword—and I was there to claim it.
Nik turned him over and pinned him, chest to the floor and arms at the small of his back. I pointed the Aetheric sword at him, just for the fun of it.
But it wasn’t fun; the weapon felt wrong, and it left an uncomfortable buzzing in my palm.
Nik looked up at me, grinned. “I know you’d like to play with that, but would you please open the door before they break it down?”
I put the sword on a table well out of Gryffin’s reach and unlocked the closest door. Red and a dozen soldiers waited outside, swords raised and ready to hack through the wood.
“The party is over,” I said, and moved aside so they could come in. “But you might want to check on Galen.”
Red sent guards to help Galen sit up, sent for Sanj, and hauled Gryffin to his feet. “Downstairs?” Red asked.
Nik nodded, and Gryffin was hauled out of the room at (Terran) swordpoint.
“Downstairs?” I asked.
“There’s a small jail, where he’ll be kept until we send him back to the City of Flowers for the emperor’s judgment.”
“Will he make it back alive?”
“Depends on how many enemies or friends he’s made along the way—and how valuable my father believes he may be. He sowed this a decade ago,” he added darkly. “He’ll reap what he will.” Then he glanced over at the sword. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It really is,” I agreed.
“It can’t stay here.”
“It really cannot.”
Red gave a deep sigh of disappointment.
“Luna,” I called, asking her to appear.
Light flickered and she appeared in an instant. She nodded at me, then shifted her gaze to the weapon, gleaming and crackling with energy. “It is a powerful weapon.”
Nik looked at it for a moment, then rose. “And one that shouldn’t be used by anyone.” He looked at Luna. “Can you destroy it?”
“No. But I can take it.”
He nodded. “Do so.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Your Highness,” she said with a nod, and picked it up.
She hadn’t called him that before. Hadn’t acknowledged he was a prince, that he was royal, that he had any authority within this realm or out of it.
But he’d saved me, and he’d given the weapon—a weapon that might have helped him win a throne—to the only person who should have wielded it.
To the only person who could destroy it.
“Thank you, Luna,” he said quietly.
She looked at me, nodded, and disappeared.